


Three Crows in Skiela’s Sight

by Nikki_DoH13



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikki_DoH13/pseuds/Nikki_DoH13
Summary: Skiela (SKY-la) is a 17 year old, born to an abusive family, with a dark secret that not even she knows. Not knows, knew. When things go south for her 4 months before her 18th birthday, Ski (SKY) leaves town with nothing but a duffle bag, the clothes on her back, and a bank account with a few thousand dollars. Will she figure out how to control her new-found before it’s too late? Or will she aid the threat against her home?





	1. Chapter 1

I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, pulling out my hair tie. I pulled out the knot at the bottom of the ends. As I started to smooth my hair back into its ponytail, Silver, one of the other girls that works here knocked on the door and opened it. 

“Hey Katelyn, you’ve got a guy asking to get you a drink.” Silver said.

“Do I have to?” I asked.

“You know the rules as well as I do Kate.” She replied.

I stood up and undid my robe, revealing my black lace teddy lingerie that fit snug around my body, and accentuating my curves, a black corset with chains hanging off of it. My black kitten heels, thick choker, and dark shadowed eyes, along with deep ruby red lips, completed my look. Katelyn, my stage name, was a dancer with an attitude that attracted both men and women of all kinds. I walked out of the dressing room and towards the bar with wolf whistles and a few guys touching my ass. 

“Katelyn, my darling.” A guy at the bar called out. 

“And you are?” I asked while blushing and dragging a black painted fingernail across my bottom lip.

“Bryce. Bryce Langston.” He replied with the infamous i-am-famous-or-popular-so-you-must-know-who-i-am aire.

“Of course.” I said giggling. 

Internally rolling my eyes, the bartender brought him whiskey and me a ginger ale. Not that he knew it. 35 minutes later, he got too drunk and the bartender had him removed. 

“Sorry.” She whispered to me.

“Not your fault that he was being an ass and flirting with me so desperately. Seriously, this is why I don’t do room calls. Can’t stand rich baby’s using their parents money to get what they want.” I replied.

We both laughed. 

“Yo Katelyn! You have 5 before you’re onstage.” The manager called. 

A few cheers and wolf whistles were called and I blushed. I headed back to the dressing room to touch up my makeup, put on the 3 inch red heels that I had, and do a quick, but through warmup for my dance. A few of the girls came back into the room from their room call. Silver came back in with a number of bills hanging out from her getup, the scent of light sweat, and flushed cheeks from the heat of the spotlights. 

“You’ve got like 45 seconds Kate.” She said breathlessly.

“How’s the crowd tonight?” I asked as I made my way to the door.

“Good. You might snag a good tip or two.” She replied teasingly.

“I’ll keep moving then.” I responded.

I headed to the back of the stage. And told the guy running music my song: High Heels by JoJo. I walked out towards the pole. (AN: I don't have a routine video for this song so imagine it while listing to the song)

~Time skip to the end of the song~

I hit the last pose and the crowd went wild. I did one last body drop to get the rest of my tips for the night and walked off stage, making sure to shake my hips and ass. I headed back to the dressing room to change and sign out. I looked at the clock and noticed that it was nearly midnight. I had worked double my shift time and was hoping to get double the pay. I changed into ripped jeans, a black lace bralette, a see through white tank, my black leather jacket, and my signature black beanie. I tucked my tips into the pocket sewn into my jeans to hide them and made my way over to the manager.

“Hey, I’m gonna sign out. Can I get a check for work?” I asked.

“Yea.” He said.

I followed him into the back and checked to make sure that I wasn’t getting ripped off, it happens, and took my pay. I walked out the back door and got into my car and drove to the bank. I deposited my tips into a private account that only I had access too and took 5% out of my paycheck. I left the rest in the envelope and headed home. When I got home, I handed over my paycheck to my brother, not putting up a fight. I made my way to my room where I removed my makeup and took a shower. I crashed hard on my bed and was almost asleep when my door slammed open and my father stumbled in.

“Where’s the money.” He demanded.

“Gave it to Ritchie. Maybe you should ask him.” I said, trying not to be too cheeky.

It didn’t work.

“Don’t get smart on me girl.” He growled.

He stumbled over and slapped me. I sat where the blow had left me, not daring to make a move as I smelled alcohol on his breath. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of bed before full on hitting me in the gut. He hit me in the rib and landed a few more blows to my chest and face before leaving my room. I lay in shock for a second, then pulled myself up to the bathroom where I examined my wounds. I was gonna have a good cut on my cheek and a black eye tomorrow, but nothing that a little makeup can’t really fix. My ribs, however, were worse for the wear. Note to self- don’t piss dad off anytime soon. I wrapped an ace wrap around my ribs, trying not to wrap too tight. Hissing in pain, I made my way back to my bed and closed my eyes when my head hit the pillow.

posted: 9/19/19


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know its been like a month. 
> 
> All I have to say is High School and AP classes. 
> 
> Shout out to the three people who have read this. 
> 
> Oof.

I woke up to a screaming pain in my ribs. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I unwrapped my ribs and almost cried. They were an ugly yellow/purple color. I wouldn’t be able to wear a corset tonight or for the next two to three nights. Never mind dancing. With a bruised rib cage, any pole move is impossible. I would have to resort to bartending again. Shit. I pulled on my normal outfit for school: black, ripped, skinny jeans, a loose black tank, that hid the ace wrap, with a black bra, my black, leather jacket, and my beanie. I popped in my black spike earrings, leather choker, and my black lip ring. I put on enough makeup to cover up the bruises. Then I grabbed my bag and headed out my window with a 5 in my pocket for lunch and a 10 in my hidden pocket. Why the hidden pockets? Because, when you live with a drunk dad and a high brother with a deadbeat mother, you have to smuggle money out in some way just to be able to eat. That’s why I’m a dancer at a strip club. To earn money. 4 more months and I’m moving into my own apartment and getting a degree in culinary arts and business management and open my own bakery. Either that or a degree in veterinary sciences. I haven’t decided yet. Either way, I just have to get through the next 4 months. Why not just leave now? Because I can’t own an apartment until I’m 18. 4 months. This is hell. Just 4 more months. I walked down the street to the school that I went to. Harborstone High School. The worst school ever. Even my prep-filled middle school was better than this. I sighed as I walked through the main doors and heard the usual talk begin.

“Freak.”

“Emo chick.”

“She’s so ugly.”

“I heard that she’s a killer.”

“Dike.”

“Slut.”

“I’d tap that ass if she wasn’t so dark.”

That last comment came from Bryce Langston. The guy who was trying to “tap that ass” last night at the strip club. Honey, you sick bastard, you don’t really understand the truth so you. Let me spell it out for you. I am Katelyn. It’s called a stage name honey. No one expects the emo kid to be the one who you tip 200 bucks a night. 

I sighed as I headed towards my locker. Except that I didn’t make it to my locker. No, he got to me first. Thomas Grunderman. The captain of the football team. The linebacker who has “the most muscle” in the whole school. He’s not the quarterback though. That’s another prep. Thomas slammed me into the locker, jostling my bruises. I grimace, trying not to hiss in pain and discomfort. 

“Lunch money. Now.” He barked.

People were looking for a second, then disappearing, not really caring, because it was a daily occurrence. I passed over the 5 I had.

“This all?” He asked.

Not wanting to speak and get hurt, I nodded my head. He let go of my shoulders and hit me in the gut. I coughed from the sudden loss of air and hunched over. He and his jock buddies left and I moved myself to my locker. I put my bag in there and left to go to the bathroom. Well to hide in the bathroom. I took the last stall and closed the door, locking it. Not answering the knocks. Two periods later, I emerged to go to one class that I actually had a teacher for. Computer codes class. The rest of my classes are online so I can catch up anytime. I made my way to the lab that we worked in and was met with a big shock 5 minutes after the bell rang.

“Hello class. Today we will be taking a break from the code pieces that we are working on and take a trip into your online lives.” Miss Higgins said. Well, I don’t have one so here’s to luck that nothing about me was posted by my family. We went through about half of the class before it got to me. 

“Skiela. ” She called.

Please let their be nothing. Please let their be nothing. Please let their be nothing. 

And nothing their was. Well, almost nothing. There was a post about me when I was younger and was actually happy, but other than that there was nothing. Thank God. If there's a God. He’s supposed to be the best, greatest thing that has happened since the earth was “born”. Who am I kidding. That is fucking stupid. She moved onto the next person and I let out a quiet sigh of relief. 20 minutes later the bell rang for lunch. I made my way to my locker, grabbed my bag, and headed outside to the back of the school where the teachers lounge was. The teachers never ate in there anyways. I used vending machines and then bolted out of the room to the science wing roof. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be here if I had the choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shout out to my friend J. for checking my grammar on this.


End file.
